WHO: Elaine Belloc (OPEN) WHAT: Distracting herself. WHEN: Evening. WHERE: Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum (location may change). RATING: TBD STATUS: In Progress
When she lost her sight, Elaine Belloc was forced to learn how to see in other ways. It never replaced the price she paid for her journey, but it helped her to find beauty in different places. Losing her voice, though, was another matter. She wouldn't be very happy to look for alternative means to express herself when she had not done nothing to deserve a theft like that. That was what it was: a robbery.
Lucky for her, whatever was affecting the population had not touched her. Even though, she had to pretend like everybody else. A frown crossed her features. She did not enjoy the spooky atmosphere that came with the silence.
What was Lucifer doing about this? Likely nothing, if I'm not affected, neither would he. And he was a selfish bastard that wouldn't be bothered unless it 'conflicted' with his agenda as usual. Should she get involved like this? Look for the responsible resorting in the supposed omniscience she had refused to practice? No. I have no right... Not yet. Just because she was technically the Demiurge didn’t mean Elaine like to play God. Her fingers traced the world encased in the pendant she wore.
…only when she had to.
She waited for days in vain for any investigation to begin, days she could continue her performance as one of them to listen the subtle noises and sounds from the machines and musical played by instruments. She counted each footstep, every sneeze, and the number of times windows were shut and open. That kept her distracted, silence didn’t make her insane, but it disturbed her deeply. This opened a wound she believed them close: the times her soul had been flayed and turned into a balloon by that Japanese god in the Mansions of Silence.
Even somebody like her had a limit and opened her wings; she soared into the sky for a flight. The darkness, smog and clouds concealed her for the most part; some people below noticed her winged silhouette while she crossed the sky. She stopped, just above the Lux and glanced to building as futile a blind girl could see it. She remained over it for minutes, deciding to not being in mood for Lucifer’s arrogance tonight, she moved away, focusing in the City: smells, auras and inorganic sounds.
Well, that was a stupid thing to do. Lucifer would be about one of the few besides me who can speak and make my days more bearable, mused Elaine as she she flew and flew and flew: circling the skyscrapers, lowering over water surfaces, dogging the flock of birds. Her laughter died on her throat and tried to feel freedom in these circumstances. She wasn’t a balloon of flesh and pain, borne for the pleasure of being tormented by a deity with a grudge. Her wings were there and her body was whole.
At last, Elaine Belloc landed safely on the top of the large entrance of Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, sitting on the edge, feeling her legs hanging on the air and hands clutching on the stone marble. It was cold, unlike the warm, springtime Californian breeze and she was happy she had a body. She remained there, above the stadium, listening to the people below.
There must be somebody out there who could also talk.